Easter Morning
She had not slept all night and now she was deadly tired but it had to be done. Like the last act of a betrothed girl whose soldier boy has been killed in a battle, like the last act of the abandoned lover, putting the keepsakes in order and hiding them, she must go through with it. She must see his face and undertake the anointing of the dead that her outrageous act of love had so unerringly pre-figured.
They were so disoriented that they had not thought about how to open the tomb until now. They took turns at pushing the barrow with its cask of embalming ointment praying that the guards would not stop them and either confiscate their cargo or solicit a bribe. They had the usual payment just in case but the soldiers were dozing. One final push up the hill, up the steep and narrow path. Then a man came hurtling round the corner, looking like death, oblivious of where he was running so that he almost pitched himself into the cart but at the last moment he swerved violently and passed them, almost knocking her over. These were strange times.
Mechanically, they set the barrow down next to an abandoned lantern and a spade and walked disconsolately towards the tomb. It was open. But it wasn't grave robbers. It looked as if there had been an earthquake. They went on as if driven, almost falling, supporting each other as they stumbled and then, as they reached the entrance a blazing spirit guarded the doorway with another just behind; but before they could turn around and run away the spirit said in a voice whose sweetness matched his beauty: "What are you looking for?" And she just managed to say "Jesus!" "Ah, Jesus! He is no longer here. He has done what he said he would. He has risen and will meet your brethren in Galilee. Go and tell them the good news."
There was no further occasion for talking. They bowed low and then turned and ran back down the slope and were catching their breath at the bottom when, as if out of nowhere, they saw the spirit of Jesus. "Peace be with you," it said. "Be glad." They fell to the ground and she grasped his feet, those feet she had dried with her hair and anointed with her hands and she kissed the wound in his right foot. This was no spirit! He was, as he always was, in a hurry without hurrying, no sign of impatience, enjoying their joy but urging them to share it: "Go and tell Peter and the others that I have risen. Don't be frightened. It was not," he looked up the hill to the three posts, "in vain."
He smiled that smile for her and she knew that their love had been so fulfilled that it would overflow the bounds of their personal drama, overflow the borders of Israel, overflow the edges of the known world until it filled the whole earth.
He smiled that smile and was gone.
They ran and ran, not stumbling but as if they could run forever. She how their message would be greeted; but it did not matter. If Jesus could overcome death, he could overcome everything.